


Before the Night is Over

by clgfanfic



Series: Sentinel Slash - The Journal [2]
Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-02
Updated: 2012-11-02
Packaged: 2017-11-17 14:07:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/552379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/clgfanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sequel to "The First Noel"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Before the Night is Over

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Mating Rituals #6 under the pen name Duval.

_Before the night is over_

_Make your heart an open door_

_Then all we hold inside us_

_Won't divide us any more._

_Before the night is over_

_And the time we have is done_

_Before the courage fades away_

_Let our hearts be bound as one… **[1]**_

 

 

**January 30 th**

**5:20 p.m.**

 

          Blair sat at his desk, trying to concentrate on the cultural anthropology paper he needed to finish, but his thoughts kept wandering, making the task next to impossible.  He needed a break.  After all, he had been working on the essay all day.  He sighed heavily, then leaned back in his chair and tossed his pen into the crack of an open book.

          _I've got to stop thinking about Jim_ , he lectured himself.  _I have to just put that aside and get this paper done_.

          He closed his eyes, memories from earlier that morning immediately springing to mind – the two of them making love, eating breakfast, the start of their latest fight…

          "Damn," he breathed, then huffed with frustration.  This just wasn't going to leave him alone, at least not until he worked some of it out for himself.

          He reached into the top drawer of his desk and pulled out his journal.  Laying it on top of the papers scattered across his desk, he opened it, then picked up his pen and began to write.

 

          January 30th.  I really don't know what to do about Jim.  He's driving me crazy!

Not that I'm not glad that we're together now, but I swear, maybe it's a Sentinel thing, but Jim has gotten so damned possessive, I don't know what to do.

          I know I've got a history of seeing a lot of people – a lot of women.  But I didn't sleep with every woman I went out with!  I didn't even sleep with half of them, or a third.  And it's not like I'm dating any more.

I still go out for coffee or for a drink with my friends or other grad students, or faculty, but that's all normal stuff.  Everybody does that!  It's just part of the university culture, and it never bothered Jim before we started sleeping together.

I'm just doing all the same things I've always done.  Completely normal things.

What's not normal are Jim's reactions.  Every single time I go out, it's like he turns into Joe Friday and gives me the third degree when I get home!

I guess what drives me nuts is the fact that, If I'd actually done anything with anyone, he'd know it!  He could smell it, if nothing else.  And he knows that as well as I do.  But that's not doing a thing to stop him from treating me like I'm a truant teenager.  No, make that he's acting like an SS officer in a very, very bad WWII movie.

        I'm going to hurt him if he keeps this up.  And I'm going to enjoy it!

 

          Blair stopped and closed his journal, his pen marking his place.  He had been trying to figure out what was going on with his lover for days now.  And, he had to admit to himself, Jim's sudden possessiveness probably wouldn't be bothering him so much if the sex they shared wasn't so damned good.  But it was good, so as far as Blair was concerned, Jim should know he wasn't looking for anyone else.

Correction.  Jim _did_ know that.  But he was still acting like a jealous–

          Opening the journal again, he continued writing.

 

          This morning I finally had enough and I called him on his attitude.  Surprise!  He got mad.

No, no surprise there, but I just wasn't going to sit through another interrogation when all I'd done was stop for a coffee with another grad student from my department.  A lesbian student at that!  So it wasn't like there was even a chance I'd be making time with her, even if I'd wanted to, and I didn't want to.

        Jim immediately got defensive and started giving me a bunch of excuses: He just wants to know where I am.  He just wants to know I'm safe.  Blah, blah, blah.

What he really wants to know where I am all the time now.

I don't get it.  It's like I'm suddenly living with Dr. Jeckle and Mr. Hyde.  I keep having this nightmare where he comes home with one of those ankle bracelets  they give perps and he asks me to wear it, so I know this is becoming a real problem for me, and that means it's a problem for our relationship.

        I guess I probably overreacted a little myself this morning, but enough is enough!  A man has his limits, and I'm at mine.

Why can't he just accept that I love him?  That I'm happy with my life with him?  (Most of the time, anyway.)

That really shouldn't be such a hard concept for him to wrap his mind around, but it seems to be impossible for Jim.

Maybe it's because his father was such a bastard when he was a kid, or because his mother ran out on him when he was little.  Or maybe it's all tied in to his failed marriage to Carolyn, or his first partner getting himself killed.  Or maybe it's all of the above.  But I've got to make him understand I'm not his mother, his father, his old partner or his ex-wife.  I'm his Guide, and now I'm his lover, and in both cases that makes me something different from anyone else he's known in his life.

And he knows me.  He know how I commit and he knows how much I love him.

        But I can only get him to understand all that if I can get him to listen to me long enough to actually hear what I'm saying.  And that's the trick.  Jim can be the most stubborn son-of-a-bitch on the planet when he wants to, and right now, he wants to!

 

          Blair stopped and closed his journal with a sigh.  Glancing over at his alarm clock, he frowned.  It was almost six and Jim wasn't home.  He reconsidered.  Six was still pretty early, and he was working on a case.  If he'd gotten a lead on the serial arsonist they were after, he would be following it up, and that might take some extra time.  So there was really no way to know when Jim might get home tonight.

          _I could call him_ , Blair thought, then immediately dismissed the idea.  He wasn't going to do to Jim what Jim had been doing to him the past few weeks.  There was no reason the detective should have to account for his whereabouts every single minute of every day.  Jim would be home when he got there, and until then Blair had every intention of using the peace and quiet to get his paper done.

          He slid his journal back into his drawer and went back to work on the essay.  With luck, he might actually get it done before midnight.

          Looking down at the scribbled notes on his legal pad, he sighed.  _Jim, I hope you're having better luck with your work than I am with mine_ , he thought.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**January 31 st**

**4:00 a.m.**

 

          For a brief moment Blair wasn't sure if he was dreaming or awake, but then he didn't care.  Strong hands stroked his back and hip, the touch light and enticing.  And after a brief but stimulating exploration, the hands pulled the graduate student over onto his back, the fingertips caressing his cheek.

Blair wanted to open his eyes, but the lethargy of pleasure made them too heavy to lift.  He smiled, relaxing into the sensations.

          The touch softly trailed down Sandburg's chest, over his hard nubs, across his quivering belly and finally reached his aching cock.  A light lick over the knob sent a shiver of erotic pleasure down his spine and Blair pressed his hips up, silently asking for more.

          His lover licked him again and Blair could feel the vein pulsing along his swollen shaft.  Lips closed around him.  Slowly, inch after inch, his throbbing hard-on glided into the welcoming warmth.  He moaned softly, lost in the sensations generated by his lover's tongue moving over his shaft.  Then he was being sucked, the muscles of his lover's throat contracting, making Blair's cock swell.

The grad student moaned again, a little louder this time, and felt the man's lips press against his pubes.

          Then the mouth pulled back, the tongue dancing over Sandburg's knob just long enough to force the man to softly beg, "Please…" before he was swallowed to the root again.

          Blair felt the beads of sweat break out across his flat abdomen, some rolling over his sides as he slowly began to lose control.  "I'm close," he groaned.

          His lover continued, lips tight against Blair's rigid shaft, tongue lapping the bloated underside as teeth nipped at the swollen cap on the end.  Sandburg thrust his pelvis up, jamming his cock down the man's throat, his head crushing against the back of his lover's tongue.

          Then the warmth was gone and Blair shivered with the loss.  He whimpered softly.

          Hands turned him over, and a moment later Sandburg felt his butt being poked by a stiff cock.  Goose bumps prickled all over his body and he moaned as fingers stroked the curves of his ass, then trailed along the backs of his thighs.  His lover growled softly as he reached under Blair, grabbing the grad student's aching member and pulling it back toward him.

A moment later Sandburg felt slick fingers rubbing over his hole.  Oil dribbled onto his knotted balls as his lover continued to tease at his pulsing opening.  A slick hand skidded across his nuts, then hooked over his knob, teasing him.  Blair lifted his hips and wiggled his butt.

A pair of thick fingers pushed into him, slippery from the oil.

          Blair pressed back to meet the exploring fingers, and that was the only invitation his lover needed.  The fingers disappeared, hands gripped his hips and, with a single thrust, the man drove three inches of his thick cock into the grad student.  Sandburg bucked and cried out with pleasure.

His lover tightened his grip and jammed forward again, driving himself in deeper.  Blair could feel his channel heat up as it was packed full of thick, hard cock.  A few more thrusts and the man was buried up to his balls.  And then Blair was impaled, again and again, his lover's belly slapping his ass, thick pubes grinding into his ass.

          The collection of sensations were overwhelming: his lover's knob prodding his prostrate, taut abdomen pounding against his ass, heavy balls swinging up to smack against his own…  Sandburg's skin began to tingle, his heart pounded against his ribs and his breath escaped his lungs in ragged gasps.  He was rapidly reaching the point of no return.

          As if sensing his imminent climax, his lover pulled away, almost letting his cock slide free of Sandburg's hot channel, but not quite.  Blair tried to push his ass back, but his lover grabbed his balls and pulled them forward, freezing the grad student in place.

They both panted for a moment, then the man rubbed Blair's belly and pinched his nipples.  "Oh, man," Sandburg groaned.

His lover grazed the tip of Blair's leaking cock with his finger, and ran another finger along the underside, then around his asshole, tracing the point of contact between them.  Sandburg's whole body felt electrified and he couldn't wait any longer.  He pushed himself back onto the throbbing cock.

          His lover gripped Blair's waist and thrust forward, burying himself deep in Sandburg's body.  For his part, Blair jerked back, and the big knot of the man's balls, pulled up tight at the base of his shaft, pushed against his sphincter like a clenched fist.

          A moment later Blair gasped as his lover began to plow into him, hard and deep.  The man paused for a second and growled, a low, rumbling sound, then started impaling him again, over and over.  Sandburg could feel the hot breath on the back of his neck and the sweat splashing off his lover.  Then he felt his muscles begin to contract as his orgasm began to gather force in his guts.  He felt the familiar burning heat move through his belly and up his cock as the come gushed out of him.  His channel spasmed and his lover cried out, pumping his hot, creamy load into Blair's body…

          And then Blair was waking, realizing that his hand, which was wrapped tightly around his own cock, was coated with semen.  He pumped himself a few more times, milking himself dry as he enjoyed the last waves of pleasure.

He relaxed in his bed and panted for breath.  _I'll have to wash the sheets_.

          Rolling his head to the side, he peered at his alarm clock – 4 a.m.  He groaned.  It was too early to get up, but he was definitely awake now, and going back to sleep would only leave him feeling tired and fuzzy-headed the rest of the day.

          Forcing himself out of bed, he wondered if Jim was home, and what he thought about Blair not being in his bed with him.  Well, if he didn't like it – tough, he thought as he rummaged for clothes, then staggered off to the bathroom for a hot shower.  Until they got Jim's control issues in check, he would be sleeping in his own bed.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**5:10 a.m.**

 

          Showered, shaved and dressed, Blair peeked out of the bathroom, expecting to find Jim in the kitchen, making breakfast, or at least complaining that the grad student had used all the hot water, but there was no one there.  With a shake of his head, Sandburg crossed to his room where he changed his sheets, tossing the soiled ones into his basket to be washed later.  He straightened the mess he had made the night before, working on his paper, and waited.  When he could find nothing else to do, and he still hadn't heard any noises coming from the kitchen, he ventured back out, glancing around the quiet loft.  Jim's jacket wasn't hanging on the hook.

          Blair frowned, then walked to the foot of the stairs and called, "Jim?"

          There was no reply.

          He climbed the stairs.  The bed was still made.  Jim hadn't come home.  Sandburg sighed.  He knew Jim had been mad at him, but he hadn't thought he was _that_ mad.

          _It has to be the case_ , Blair told himself.  _Jim'll probably call this morning and let me know when he's coming home_.

          He turned and headed back downstairs.  After making himself breakfast and eating, he grabbed a pen and left a note:  Hey Jim, I'll be at the university all day.  I have a faculty meeting after my class, then office hours.  And today's that lecture I told you about – The Nipon Theory, did the ancient Japanese make it to South America.  So I won't be home until 6 p.m. or so.  You want to go grab Chinese?  Blair

          Leaving the note where Jim would find it, he walked back to his room to grab his jacket and backpack.  He glanced at the clock – 6:05 a.m.  Knowing he had some time, he laid his jacket and backpack on the bed and sat down at his desk.  Pulling his journal out, he picked up a pen and began to write.

 

January 31st.  Well, Jim didn't come home last night.  And I'm not sure if that's because of the case he's working on, or if he's just that pissed off at me.  I'm hoping it's the case.  I hate it when Jim gets mad at me.  It makes me feel like I'm walking a tightrope across a really, really deep gorge and the wind's picking up.  Totally frightening.

God.  Enough of that!  I'm going to talk myself into a panic attack!

Funny, I haven't had any really erotic dreams since Jim and I became lovers, but this morning I had a doozy.  The weird part was, I never saw Jim's face in the dream, but I knew it was him who was making love to me.  Still, something about the dream bothered me, although I'm not exactly sure what, or why.

I guess a part of me is a little annoyed that I want him that much when he's been acting like an asshole.  And, to be honest, a part of me is afraid of losing what we have – or maybe I'd be more realistic if I said what we had.

See, that's it right there!  I'm not sure.  I don't know where Jim and  I stand with each other any more.  Are we lovers?  Are we just friends who tried being lovers?  Are we – what?  I don't know, and that scares me.  Really scares me.

Maybe it's selfish, but I want it all.  I want us to be friends, and lovers, and Sentinel and Guide.  And maybe that's too much to hope for.  But for a few weeks there we had it, and it was good – damned good.  I just wish I knew how to get that back, but I don't.

And I have every right to want it back.  After all, Jim's the one who started the physical relationship, not me.  If he wasn't ready for it, he shouldn't have made love to me.  It might have been a dream come true for me, but maybe it's turned into more of a nightmare for him.  I wish I knew.

Jim seems to be doing his best to make me mad, which means we don't make love much right now.  Well, at least not as often as we were right after Christmas.

No.  I'm wrong.  He's not doing his best to make me mad.  Shit!  He's doing his best to push me away!  To drive me off!

I should have seen this sooner!

Light bulb time!  Jim's scared, too!  It's so good with us, he doesn't trust it can last!  That's it!  I know that's it!

The stupid son-of-a-bitch.  He's got to know I'm not going anywhere.

Ah, but that assumes he can think rationally about this, doesn't it.  And I can't think rationally about it, so why in the world would I think Jim could?  The man's so out-of-touch with his emotions sometimes it's scary.

And I've been playing right into his paranoia by over-reacting and then going out and finding reasons to be out later than usual, just to piss him off.  Who's the stupid one now, Sandburg?

Oh man, I've been coming at this all wrong!  (And of course Jim's not here so I talk to him about it – I swear, he must plan this.)  But if I'm right, I've just got to convince Jim that I'm not going to leave him, even if he is acting like a complete prick.

The question is: how do I do that?  How do you prove to someone that you love them unconditionally, especially when – with everyone else in their life – it's always been conditional?

I don't know.

I'll have to think about that one and see what I can come up with.  I know there must be a way to do it, and I'm not going to quit until I find it.  Jim means too much to me to give up.  "We" mean to much to me to give up.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**January 31 st**

**6:05 a.m.**

 

          Jim sat in his truck, sipping on the last of the coffee from his thermos.  It had been a long, uneventful night, which meant he'd had nothing to occupy his time.  And, as a result, he'd been forced to spend most of it trying _not_ to think about Sandburg.  But after hours of fighting the inevitable, Ellison finally gave in.

          He sighed heavily and shook his head as he thought about the fight he'd had with Sandburg almost twenty-fours earlier.  He wasn't even sure why he'd kept pushing like he had – it seemed pretty stupid, looking back.

          _Because you're a jealous bastard, that's why_ , he chided himself.  _You know Blair isn't seeing anyone else_.

          "Yeah, I know," Jim said softly, his gaze sweeping over the buildings and shadows.

          _So why keep treating him like you think he's cheating on you?  You sound like the husbands who end up stalking their wives or girlfriends, or who kill them because they can't let them go_.

          Jim sighed again and shook his head.  "What's wrong with me?" he wondered aloud.  "I've got a damned good thing going with Sandburg, and I'm going out of my way to destroy it."

          _Fear_.

          Yeah.  He was afraid.  Scared to death, if he could admit it to himself, which he tried not to do.  Fear wasn't an emotion Jim Ellison was comfortable with – never had been.  It was far easier to embrace and express anger than fear.  And that was just what he'd done.  He was afraid, so he'd found a way to lash out and hurt what he feared – Blair.

          "But I know Sandburg wouldn't hurt me," he argued with his logic.

          _You're not afraid of him just hurting you, you're afraid of him rejecting you, leaving you_.

          Jim snorted derisively.  "This is _not_ going to end up being about my mother," he concluded flatly.

          _Mother was just the first.  Your father never accepted you for who you really are either.  And while Carolyn might have loved you, she didn't have what it took to hang in there for the long haul with you.  Steven stopped fighting your father and turned against you.  Hell, even your Army unit got themselves killed and left you hanging out there, all alone, in the jungle._

 _The only one who's stuck by you, through good times and bad, has been Blair.  He knows who you are, what you are, and he loves you anyway_.

          "And what do I do?  I try to squeeze him into a box so I can keep him safe and make sure he doesn't leave me."

 _Not smart_.

          "No, not smart at all," Ellison admitted aloud.  Sandburg was a free spirit, and Jim had been doing his best to stamp that spirit out.  But in the end that would only kill Blair, kill the spark of joy and innocence he had.  And Jim knew that, in order to save himself, Blair would eventually be forced to leave if the detective kept acting like he was.

          _Which is why you're pushing.  You want to force him out before he changes his mind and leaves on his own.  But that's not going to happen, unless you make it happen_.

          "Unless I keep acting like I have been," he confessed, growing extremely uncomfortable with the self-reflection and the conclusions he was coming to.

          He lifted the cup and drained the lukewarm coffee, then screwed it back onto the thermos, purposefully tuning out the thoughts and forcing his attention back to why he was sitting there in the first place.

A serial arsonist had been burning down buildings in some of the poorest neighborhoods in Cascade.  All of the structures had already been condemned and were empty except for the bravest of the homeless who had been forced to take refuge in the crumbling buildings when they were chased off the streets.  Five buildings in five weeks.  Three people had been killed in the fires, and two others had died when they had been forced to evacuate nearby buildings and ended up suffering heart attacks.

          If the man stayed true to his past pattern, building six would be hit within three days.  But there was no way to tell exactly where the arsonist would strike next.

Some careful work by Henri and Rafe had given them their first major break on the case.  All five of the buildings belonged to the same holding company, Renard International, although lawyers had gone out of their way to try and hide that fact.  Renard also owned three other condemned buildings in other poor Cascade neighborhoods.

          Then, after interviewing over a hundred witnesses to the earlier fires, they finally got another break.  In each case, a few days before the fire, a stranger had been seen in or around the building.  The composite description they had come up with – male, Caucasian, early- to mid-thirties, blond – was vague, but at least it was something.

          It was Jim who had suggested they stake out the three remaining Renard properties, in case the arsonist showed up like he had in the past.  Simon agreed.

          A tip from one of his informants led Jim to this particular building, but after twelve hours, the detective had yet to see anything out of the ordinary.  He was sitting farther away than an ordinary cop would be, using his Sentinel sight to keep a careful watch on the only door that wasn't sealed.  He could also see the only windows that weren't boarded up from the truck.

          With the short winter days, the arsonist still had an hour's worth of darkness he could use, although the first signs of normal activity were already beginning to show as a few lights came on in the surrounding buildings.

          His thoughts began to drift back to Sandburg and he wondered if the grad student had gotten the paper done he'd needed to turn in today.  Jim felt a pang of guilt over not calling his Guide to let him know that he'd be out all night on the stakeout.  He glanced down at the cell phone lying on the seat and briefly considered calling now, but then decided against it.  Blair would probably still be sleeping, especially if he'd stayed up late to finish that paper.

Jim decided he'd wait a couple of hours and then try to catch Sandburg at his office between nine and ten – right before the class he taught.

          Then he reached over and picked up the phone, almost changing his mind about waking his Guide, but movement in the shadows at the corner of the building stopped him.

          Jim reached out with his enhanced sight, focusing on the man's face as he moved to the door of the building and glanced around before opening it and slipping inside.  He fit the description.

          Ellison dropped the cell phone on the seat and slipped out of the truck, stopping just long enough to lock the door before setting off for the apartment building at a quick jog.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**6:15 a.m.**

 

          Pressing up against the side of the building, Jim focused his hearing in case the arsonist was still somewhere near the door, but all he heard was the sound of footsteps moving away from him.  In the background he could also hear the sounds of the people in nearby apartments and homes as they got up, took showers, turned on their televisions and began conversations, but he tuned those distractions down, keeping his focus on the footsteps.  Only the soft sound of a crying child competed with the rhythmic strike of heel and toe, but Ellison wasn't even aware that he hadn't ignored it.

Jim eased into the building, then waited for a brief moment while his eyes adjusted to the new light levels.  He took the time to cock his head to one side and then the other, determining which way to go.  An angry male voice in the background grated on his nerves, but he blocked out the man's words, tracking the path of the footsteps.

A moment later a high-pitched woman's voice made Jim flinch.  And behind it all remained the continuing sobs from the child.

          Jim started through the building, pausing several times when the arsonist stopped, probably glancing around when he sensed he was being followed, but he couldn't see the detective, so he continued after a few seconds.  An awareness of a second heartbeat in the building told Ellison the arsonist was meeting someone there.

          Finally, the blond man stopped and knocked on a closed door.  It opened a crack and Jim heard another man ask, "You the torch?"

The blond replied, "I am."

The door opened and the blond disappeared inside.

          Ellison moved closer and concentrated on his hearing.  The sound of the crying child made it a little difficult to hear what was being said behind the closed door, and Jim had to make a concerted effort to tune down the weeping far enough to hear the conversation taking place.

          "…you'll be ready to go?"

          "Yes, but I think you should know, the cops are getting wise.  I noticed they had one of your buildings under surveillance.  Maybe even this one and the other, as well."

          "The cops might be here?" the second replied, his voice tight with sudden fear.

          The blond chuckled.  "Relax.  I don't care if they're suspicious.  They can't stop the flames.  Nothing can stop the flames."

          "I just don't want to get caught.  I don't get paid enough for that."

          "Tell Mr. Renard his buildings will all come down, just like he wanted.  And this one will be next."

"When?"

"Day after tomorrow, around noon.  Now, give me my money."

          Jim heard the crack of paper and guessed an envelope had been passed to the arsonist.  A moment later the sound of money being fanned by the pad of a thumb sounded loud in his ears.  That was followed by a hiccup from the crying child before she whined, "No more, Daddy, please."

          But then footsteps were hammering loud in the Sentinel's ears, and the door opened.  The arsonist stepped out into the hall.  Jim ducked back, listening as the man's heart suddenly began to beat faster.  _Damn, he must have seen me_.

          The blond turned, quickly moving farther into the building.  Jim hesitated, then followed, hoping to catch up to the man and arrest him now, before he had a chance to torch the building.  But he had to move slowly or give away his presence with the sound of the debris that littered the floors being kicked or stepped on.

The arsonist already seemed to know the building, and he ducked in and out of various apartments, which was easy to do since many of the doors to the old residences were missing, and some of the walls had large holes beaten into them with God knew what.  Jim cursed silently as he tried to keep up and not tip-off his exact location.  The blond definitely knew he was being followed.

Suddenly, the footsteps stopped.

Jim halted, crouching in the shadows, gun in his hand.  He concentrated on his hearing, trying to track the man down.  If he could isolate the arsonist, he could piggyback his sight on his hearing and see where the man was hiding.  His eyes narrowed in concentration as he squeezed out the extraneous sounds, eliminating each one until there was only the blond's heartbeat and the echo of the sobbing

child.

Jim pushed, his sight just beginning to focus in on the man when a high-pitched scream stabbed through his head like a knife.  He flinched, his head jerking to the right, sight and hearing meeting at a dirty window in the building next door, then beyond to a little girl as she was grabbed by the arm and jerked to her feet.  A man, his back turned to Jim, raised his hand and slapped the child.  She screamed and jerked frantically in the man's grip, trying to break free.  "No, Daddy!  No more!  Daddy, no!" she shrieked as he struck her again.

The Sentinel's world erupted in a blinding explosion of color that rushed into blackness, carrying him along with it.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**12:00 p.m.**

 

          Jim woke reluctantly.  He moaned softly, his head pounding fiercely, his left shoulder and hip aching.  He lay still for several seconds, trying to remember where he was and how he'd gotten there, but there was nothing.

"Damn," he breathed.

Carefully pushing himself up to a seated position, he hesitated, fighting back a wave of nausea.  Once that passed, he scooted over so he could sit with his back against a wall as he took stock of his situation.  The _clink_ of chain was his first clue that something was very, very wrong.

He tried to see what was making the sound, but his eyes refused to cooperate.  Groping blindly in the darkness, he found the cold metal links, following them to where they looped around a thick pipe.  They were secured by a heavy nut and bolt that would require tools to loosen.

The activity was enough to leave him panting for breath, and his head felt like it might explode.

When the pain finally subsided, he traced the metal links the other way, finding a shackle secured around one of his ankles.  "Great," he muttered.  "Just great."

          His head still throbbing painfully from his efforts, Jim sat back down and leaned back against the wall again.  He moved his toes, ankles, knees, and legs.  Except for a sharp stab in his hip joint, he was fine.  Nothing was broken.  He checked his fingers, hands, elbows and shoulders.  Nothing there except a matching stab in his shoulder.

          He checked his ribs, then probed his left shoulder with the fingers of his right hand a little more thoroughly.  It wasn't dislocated, but it was a damned good bet that he'd landed on his left side when he'd been tossed down the – Jim concentrated – elevator shaft.

He was chained at the bottom of an old elevator shaft.

          "I'm still in the same building," he realized, speaking the words aloud.  _But how did I end up down here?_

          He thought back, recalling the stakeout, his musings about Sandburg, the arrival of the arsonist… then events turned decidedly fuzzy.  He took a deep breath, held it a moment and let it out in a frustrated huff.

          The little girl!  He could remember the crying child… and the conversation between the arsonist and another man… he followed the arsonist…

          Jim groaned.  The little girl… she'd been beaten, her screams capturing his attention.  He'd zoned-out.

          The arsonist must have gotten the drop on him.

          "Damn it," he hissed, jerking at the chain, but there was no give and the action sent a shard of agony slicing through his head.

          He reached up and gingerly checked his skull, finding the egg-sized lump.  "Ow," he hissed when he pressed on it a little too hard.

          A sudden flash of panic raced through him and Jim checked his watch – 12:30 p.m.  He'd been unconscious a little over six hours.  That meant he had about forty-eight hours to find a way out of his prison, or end up being burned alive.

He closed his eyes and sighed heavily, wishing he could concentrate better.  He was so tired…  Before he could stop himself, he slipped back into unconsciousness.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**12:30 p.m.**

 

          Standing in line in the student union, waiting to pay for his lunch, Blair's conscience finally got the better of him.  He dug his cell phone out of his backpack and called Jim's cell, which rang several times, then transferred him to voice mail.

          He cursed softly and tried Ellison's number at Major Crimes.  The phone rang twice before it was picked up.

          "Major Crimes, Detective Rafe."

          "It's Blair, man.  Is Jim there?"

          "Nope, but he was on a stakeout until six this morning.  He's probably at the loft, catching some sack-time."

          "Oh, okay.  Thanks."

          Blair ended the call, then started to call home only to stop.  If Jim had been out all night, the last thing he'd want was a call waking him up early.  He sighed.  He'd just have to wait to talk to Jim until he got home later.

          He put the phone back in his backpack, and slung it over his shoulder.  But something just didn't feel right.  _Ah, man, you're just over-reacting.  And you're doing that a lot right now.  So, chill.  Everything's fine._

_Besides, I was right.  It was the case that kept Jim out all night.  He might not even be all that mad.  I hope._

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**6:45 p.m.**

 

          Blair stepped into the loft, calling, "Hey, Jim, you here?"

          There was no reply.

          "Jim, where are you?" Sandburg asked, his voice becoming lost in the silence.  "Great," he grumbled.

          Walking over to the television, he turned on the news, only half-listening as he dropped his jacket and backpack on his bed, then went out to the kitchen to make himself something for dinner.  His note was still lying where he'd left it.

After checking the cabinets and the refrigerator, Sandburg decided on a meatless lasagna.  And it was one of Jim's favorites, too.  _A peace offering_ , he decided as he started collecting the ingredients.

          A half-hour later, the lasagna was cooking in the microwave and the kitchen was cleaned up.  Blair got himself a beer and walked back over to the couch and sat down.

Grabbing the remote, he started surfing, finally deciding on a History Channel special about the early voyages of discovery.  He was quickly drawn into the program and jumped slightly when the timer on the microwave chimed.

          Getting up, he walked over and pulled the bubbling lasagna out and placed it on a trivet to cool.  He set the table for two, his gaze drifting between the television and the clock.  Next, he made two small salads, then dished up a serving of the lasagna for himself and sat down at the table.  He waited a few more minutes, then started eating his supper.  But he hated eating alone, and after a few bites he carried his plate and salad bowl into the living room, putting them on the coffee table.  Then he carried a second beer over and sat down on the floor, eating while he watched the remainder of a program on the lives of ancient Egyptians.

          He had the table cleared, the dishes washed and the food covered and in the refrigerator before the ten o'clock news was over.  Standing in the kitchen, his hands on his hips, Blair fought back a wave of panic.  Then, taking a deep breath, he walked to the phone and tried calling Jim's cell phone again.  When he got the voice mail, he tried the precinct, but Jim wasn't there, and no one knew where to find him.

Growing more concerned, Blair pressed the speed dial combination for Simon's home phone.

          _"Hello,"_ Banks answered.

          "Simon, it's Blair."

          _"Hey, Blair, what can I do for you?"_

          "Uh, do you have any idea where Jim might be?"

          _"Jim?  I'm not the one who lives with the man, Sandburg."_

          "Yeah, I know.  Look, I haven't seen Jim since yesterday morning, and he hasn't called–"

          _"Jim's been working on that serial arsonist case.  I talked to him last night, and there was a message on my machine this morning.  He was staking out a potential target–"_

          "Yeah, I know all that.  But don't you think he would've called by now?  I mean, someone would've relieved him so he could get some sleep, right?"

          _"Jim was coordinating that.  Look, I'm sure he's fine.  You know how he gets when he's on a case."_

          "Obsessive – yeah, I know.  I'm just getting a little worried, that's all.  He's not answering his cell phone, no one at the precinct knows where to find him–"

          _"Look, Sandburg, if he's not home by tomorrow morning, I'll find him, but I just don't think it's all that strange for Jim to be gone a couple of days when he's working a case like this.  Besides, he, uh, mentioned that you and he were…"_

          When Banks trailed off, Blair offered, "Fighting?"

          _"Something like that, yeah."_

          "We are.  But it's still not like Jim to be out of contact for this long.  If nothing else, he'd want to call and harass me."

          _"Like I said – if he's not back by tomorrow morning, we'll start worrying."_

          "All right," Blair agreed, but he didn't like it.  "If he's not here in the morning, I'll stop by the precinct."

          _"You do that.  Goodnight, Sandburg."_

          "Night, Simon."

          Blair hung up, then walked back to the living room and turned off the television.  He headed for his room where he undressed and pulled on a pair of old sweat pants and a long-sleeved tee-shirt.  Then, sitting down at his desk, he checked his date book to see if he had any meetings scheduled for the next day.  Thankfully there was only one.  He turned his computer on and logged onto his university account, sending the student an e-mail to let him know they needed to reschedule their meeting for later in the week.  That done, he turned off the computer and put away the books and other items he'd been carrying around in his backpack all day.

          He glanced over at the clock.  It was almost 11 p.m., still early as far as the graduate student was concerned.  He looked back at his desk, trying to decide what to do.  The paper was done, his grading was caught up, the rest of his assignments for classes were finished, and he'd turned in all the paperwork for next semester's grants last week.  There was nothing left for him to do.  But he knew he had to find something.  If he went to bed now, he'd just lie there and worry.

          With a sigh he sat down at the desk and pulled out his journal.  He opened it and read over his last two entries, then picked up his pen and started writing.

 

          January 31st.  Jim's been gone now for almost two days.  It feels like a hell of a lot longer, too.  I miss him.

Something's wrong, but I can't get anyone to believe me.  At least Simon said he'll do something if Jim isn't back by tomorrow morning, and I know he's not going to be back.

I wish I knew where he was.

Okay, announcement, I'm now officially scared.  As mad as I am at Jim, I can't begin to imagine what my life would be like without him.  It's incomprehensible.  I can't lose him.  I love him too much.

I want the chance to tell him how much I love him.  I want a chance to work this all out.  I want to feel him making love to me again.

Damn it, Jim, you better be all right.  I swear I'll find a way to make your afterlife a living Hell if you've gotten yourself killed out there.

You are not leaving me all alone here.

 

          He closed the journal, put it back in his drawer, then got ready for bed.  When he finally climbed under the blankets, he lay for a moment, eyes closed, and silently prayed.  Then, rolling over, he pulled the blankets up tight around his shoulder and willed himself to sleep.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

**February 1 st**

**6:20 a.m.**

 

          Blair knew he was dreaming.  And he knew it because he was both walking down the sidewalk in a section of the city he would normally avoid, and he was also watching himself as he passed by buildings, cars and a few people.

          _Cool_ , he thought, _a lucid dream_.

          He glanced around, his witness-self taking in the run-down buildings, the abundant graffiti, and the occasional too-fancy car with dark tinted windows that cruised slowly down the street, rap music blaring from expensive speakers.  Definitely a bad part of town.

          He crossed the street and kept walking, the people on the sidewalk ignoring him, pretending they couldn't see him, but Blair knew different.  He tried to speak to a couple of the passersby, but they just looked away and hurried on without a word.

          _I feel like one of the ghosts in A Christmas Carol_, he thought.  _Able to see the suffering masses, but unable to act in the world.  It sucks.  No wonder old Jacob wanted to spare Scrooge_.

Reaching the end of the block he stopped.  To his left was an open field surrounded by a tall chain-link fence and topped with razor wire.  To his right was a four-story apartment building, its windows all boarded up.  But it was a pick-up truck parked much farther up the block that captured Blair's attention.

          "Jim?"  He picked up the pace, jogging up the sidewalk to the truck, but there was no one sitting inside.  He approached slowly and looked in through the passenger-side window.  Jim's cell phone was lying on the seat.

          "Great.  No wonder he hasn't answered any of my calls."

          Blair glanced around, trying to spot Jim, but he was nowhere in sight.

          "Jim!" he called.  "Jim!  Can you hear me?"

          "Sandburg?"

          Blair's heart lurched in his chest, beating much faster.  "Jim, where are you?" he called, turning around in a circle, trying to see everything at once.

          A sudden, loud blast of music cut through the dream, drowning out Ellison's reply.  The alarm, Blair knew.  He cursed softly, and then he was awake.

          He rolled over with a moan and hit the off button, then rolled back over and lay on his back.  It was 6:30 a.m. and he knew Jim was alive.

But where was he?

"I'm trying, Jim," he said softly.  "Please, just hang in there."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**8:00 a.m.**

 

          Blair walked into the bullpen and glanced around.  No Jim.  He greeted Henri and Rafe, then sat down at Jim's desk to wait for Simon.  He checked the drawers and the computer, hoping Jim had left some clue about behind about where he was, or what he was doing, but there was nothing.

          He had just leaned back in the chair when Simon strode in.

Banks frowned and asked, "No Jim?"

          "No."

          "In my office," the captain replied, heading straight for his door and going inside, Blair on his heels.

          They both sat down.  "It's two days, Simon," Sandburg said.

          Simon picked up the phone.  "Rhonda, connect me to dispatch."  A moment later he was talking to the supervisor.  When he hung up he looked at Blair and said, "Jim checked in yesterday morning at 5:30, which was right before he called and left the message for me.  He was still on a stakeout over on Beverly, but that was the last call.  I'm having a patrol unit check it out."

          "Thanks, Simon."

          Banks nodded.  "I still think Jim's just obsessing on this case."

          "I hope so," Sandburg replied as he stood and left the office.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**9:30 a.m.**

 

          Jim awoke, cold and aching.  His head pounded, and any movement he made only forced his stomach to tighten and threaten to rebel.  Lying still on the cold cement floor, he took several deep breaths, trying to calm the nausea, which eventually subsided.

          Slowly lifting his arm, he checked his watch.  Twenty-some hours left.

His thoughts immediately went to Blair.  "Sandburg's got to be worried by now," he comforted himself aloud.  "He'll go to Simon…"

          _Then again, given the way you've been treating him, maybe not_.

          "He's looking for me.  That much I know," Jim mumbled, closing his eyes and fighting back another wave of nausea, only to be shaken by a chill.

          _You better hope so_.

          "I know so," Jim whispered, feeling the first pull of unconsciousness reaching for him again.  "Blair," he called weakly as it carried him away.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**10:45 a.m.**

 

          Simon stood next to Jim's pick-up, which was resting on blocks, completely stripped.  He cursed softly and shook his head.  Sandburg had been right: Jim was in trouble, somewhere.

Turning, he watched the forensics team as they got to work and hoped they found something that could led them to Jim.  But right now he needed to make a call, and he wasn't looking forward to it in the slightest.

          Pulling his cell phone from his pocket, he called Sandburg at the loft.  Blair answered after the first ring, asking, _"Jim?"_

          "Blair, it's Simon."

          _"Oh God,"_ the grad student replied.  _"Is–?"_

          "We found Jim's truck over on Livermore.  It's been stripped.  The lab thinks it might have been here as long as a day, maybe a little more."

          _"Livermore?"_ Blair echoed.  _"But I thought you said his stakeout was on Beverly."_

          "It was," Simon admitted.  "Beverly's a pretty poor section of the city.  It's a good bet someone from the neighborhood took the truck for a joy ride and it ended up here, where it was stripped by the locals."

          _"Great.  But where's Jim?"_

          "I have no idea," Simon admitted with a frustrated sigh.  "I've got officers canvassing both neighborhoods.  If someone saw Jim, hopefully we'll find them."

          _"Simon, the people in those neighborhoods aren't going to talk to cops.  They don't trust–"_

          "It's the best I can do, Sandburg!" Banks snapped.

          _"What about a K–?"_

          "I've already got two K9 units checking the Beverly area," the captain interrupted.

          _"All right.  Sorry,"_ Blair apologized.

          "You're worried, I understand that, but we're doing everything we can to find him."

          _"I know, Simon."_

          "Look, why don't you meet me back at the Precinct?"

          _"Why?  There's nothing I can do there.  Think I'll drive over to Beverly and–"_

          "Blair, I want you to stay out of that neighborhood.  It's not safe."

          _"Come on, Simon, I've worked with the homeless, and with gangs, in neighborhoods like that before.  I'll be fine."_

          "Fine," he sighed.  "I can't stop you, but be careful.  Jim'll have my hide if anything happens to you."

          _"I'll be careful,"_ Blair promised.

          "Call me if you find anything," Simon instructed.

          _"I will.  You do the same.  I'll have the cell with me.  Bye."_

          Simon closed his cell phone and dropped it back into his pocket.  He huffed, then looked back at the technicians.  "Let's move, people!  We've got a missing detective out there!"  He cursed silently, wishing again that he'd listened to Blair's concerns the night before.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**11:30 a.m.**

 

          Blair pulled up to the curb and parked.  Sitting in his car, he glanced around at the graffiti-covered buildings and a strong sense of déjà vu swept over him.  He shook it off, sure that he'd never been in this particular section of Cascade before.

          Climbing out of his car, he locked the door, then walked around to the sidewalk.  Glancing up and down the street, he noted which way the numbers were running, then started off to find the building Jim had been watching.

          It was when he saw the building that he remembered.  The dream.  He had seen Jim's truck parked somewhere around here, and that same boarded-up building.  But why?  What did it mean?  That Jim was in the building?

          Blair started for the structure, pausing only to try and speak to the few people he passed on the street, but they just shot him distrusting looks, and hurried on, ignoring his questions.

          When Blair finally reached the building, he stared up at the four stories, noting how each of the windows had been boarded over.  He walked around the building, finding the rest of the windows in the same condition.  And the same was true of the doors – except for one on the last side he inspected.  There he found a door secured with two heavy padlocks that looked relatively new.  There were also two windows, one on each side of the door, that weren't boarded-over as well.  However, one was made of glass with a wire mesh embedded in it, and the other was small enough that he couldn't imagine Jim being able to squeeze through it.

Signs were posted at regular intervals along all of the walls, warning that the building was condemned, dangerous and scheduled to be torn down on February, 10th.

          He tested the locks, but they were secure.  "Damn," Blair breathed.  He swung around, studying the scene, trying to see it in relation to his dream.  He could make a good guess where Jim's truck had been parked in his dream and walked over to the spot, then turned around and looked back at the old apartment building.  It was the exact same view as in his dream.

          _So, Jim was parked here, watching that building.  But nobody can get in, not unless they had a key to those locks.  What happened to him?_

          Blair's forehead wrinkled with concentration.  _The cell phone was lying on the seat of the truck, so something must have caught Jim's attention.  Something that made him leave the truck so quickly he didn't stop to take it with him_.

          He looked back at the building.  _Maybe he saw someone walking around the building like I did?  Someone he thought might be the arsonist, looking for a way in?_

          _Okay, go with that.  What would Jim do next?_ Blair asked himself.

          _He'd get out, lock the door and start after the suspect… this is a long way from the actual building, so he'd probably be using his Sentinel sight to keep track of the guy.  Which means he wouldn't be paying close attention to anything else that might be going on around him…_

_So, what, he got hit by a car?  Anything like that and he'd still be able to call._

          _Did Jim catch the guy and the arsonist overpowered him?_

Blair shook his head.  It was hard to imagine anyone getting the best of Jim in a fight.

Maybe there was more than one arsonist?  Or a gang from the neighborhood got the drop on him while he was focused on the arsonist?

          He sighed with frustration.  There was just no way to know what had actually happened.  "Damn it," he whispered hotly.

Sandburg walked back to his car, unlocked it and climbed in.  Sitting there, he tried to decide what he should do next, but he came up with no answer.

          He started the car and headed back to the loft.  Maybe the lab or Simon had found out something useful.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

**11:40 a.m.**

 

          Jim moaned softly, something penetrating the migraine-like headache and rousing him from the stupor that held him in its debilitating grip.  But he had no idea what it was.

          He forced himself to concentrate, pushing past the fog in his mind.

It wasn't something he could see, since he couldn't see a damned thing in the darkness of his pit.

Was it something he'd heard?

          He tried to extend his aural range, but the pounding in his head made it almost impossible.  The effort escalated the agony in his skull, making him sick to his stomach.  Dry heaves struck, curling him into a ball.

Moments later he lay on his back again, gulping in air.  But then he heard it: Blair's voice.

          "Excuse me, I'm looking for my friend– Please, my friend– My friend is missing, can you–?"

          Blair was here, looking for him!

Hope gave Jim the strength he needed to force himself to sit up.  _Come on Blair.  Come find me, Chief_ , he encouraged silently, cradling his head in his hands.

          Using all his willpower, Jim focused on his hearing again, picking up his Guide's heartbeat and the welcome sound of his voice as he asked more questions.  But in this neighborhood, it was unlikely he would get any answers – at least none that weren't profane.

          He focused on the sound of Blair's footsteps, listening as they grew louder and louder until he knew Sandburg was outside the building.

Jim smiled weakly.  _That's it_ , he thought.  _Come inside_.

Blair walked around the building.

 _Come on, Blair.  I'm inside.  Open the door_.

          He heard the scraping sound of metal against metal.  _Locks_ , he guessed.  That would make sense.  The arsonist probably secured the door after he left.

          "Damn," he heard Sandburg mutter.

          "Blair!" Jim called as loudly as he could, but his mouth was dry and he was weak and his voice didn't even carry to the top of the shaft.  "Blair!" he tried again, with the same disappointing results.

          And then Sandburg's footsteps started away.

          "Blair!" he cried, this time a little louder as fear added strength to the word, but it was too late, Sandburg was leaving.

          Jim felt his chest tighten, his emotions bubbling to the surface, filling his eyes with stinging tears.

          _Get a grip_ , he snapped at himself, ashamed at his weakness.  But he was cold, hurting and scared.  His breath caught in his throat.  "Blair," he moaned, the heaves striking once more.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**1:45 p.m.**

 

          Back at the loft, Blair called Simon, who had no news to report.  Then he fixed himself some soup for lunch, although he wasn't hungry, and forced himself to eat it.

          When that was done, and the kitchen returned to its usual pristine state, he headed into the living room.  He stood in the space, staring out the French doors, his hands on his hips, as he considered what to do next.  Making a decision, he sighed heavily, then ran his hands over his hair.

Walking to the stereo, he picked out a CD and put it on to play.  Then, taking a seat on floor, he took several deep, centering breaths before beginning his meditation.

          It took much longer than usual, but he finally forced his thoughts to still.  And once they did, he reached out for Jim.

The result was not what he expected.

          It felt like he'd slipped and fallen into a carnival funhouse.  His perceptions were distorted, almost painful so, and he immediately pulled back, unsure what was happening.

With a sharp gasp he jerked and opened his eyes.  "Damn, Jim, what the hell's going on?"

He had no answer, but there was one thing he was absolutely sure of: Jim Ellison was at least alive.  And that gave him hope.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

**3:30 p.m.**

 

          February 1st.  I tried to link with Jim, but it was total disaster.  It looked and felt like getting caught in some really bad horror movie set in one of those small, rural carnival funhouses.  Everything was distorted, twisted.  But at least I know he's still alive, which is more than I knew this time yesterday.

But I hate this.

I never really thought about it like this, but when you risk loving someone, you also risk hurting more than you can imagine – unless you've been there before and lost someone.

Poets and philosophers have been asking themselves if it's worth this since humans developed language.  And the results are mixed, which makes a lot more sense to me right now than it did before.

Right now I'm hurting, worse than I ever have before.  And I know a big part of that is because if Jim dies, the last memory I'll have is that stupid fight.

And I know he loves me.  So why couldn't the last thing we said to each other have been "I love you"?

Why do I have to lose him at all?

No.  I am not writing him off.  I'm not going believe he's dead until I see a body.  Jim's a survivor – he's a Sentinel.  He can get through this, whatever it is.  I have to believe that.

 

Blair closed his journal and put it away.  Then he grabbed his jacket, made sure he had his cell phone and left the loft.  With nothing else to do, he drove back to the Beverly neighborhood, cruising the streets, looking for some sign of Jim.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~*

 

**11 p.m.**

 

          Blair climbed into bed, exhausted.  All he'd done all day was look for Jim and wait for news – news which never came – but it was enough to leave him feeling wrung out.

The lab report on the truck had yielded no clues, and none of the officers who had canvassed the neighborhoods around Beverly and Livermore had found anyone who had seen anything or, if they had, were willing to tell them about it.

          But at least he knew Jim was alive.  He had definitely reached him that afternoon, although something was also clearly wrong with the man.

Blair had spent the past several hours while he was driving around the Beverly neighborhood trying to guess what had caused the strange reaction and the best he could come up with was that Jim was hurt, or unconscious.  He had never tried reaching out to Jim while he was sleeping, or sick – something he would have to try when he got the Sentinel back.

          And he _would_ get him back.  Blair was determined on that point.

          He closed his eyes and waited for sleep to come.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**February 2 nd**

**3 a.m.**

         

Blair blinked and looked around him.  He was back on Beverly.  _Another lucid dream_ , he realized.  _Okay, why am I here?  What didn't I see the first time?_

          A sudden noise to his left made Blair jump.  A shadow was just beginning to glide out from a narrow alley, and the malevolent feeling it projected was enough to prod him into motion.  He sprinted away, but the shadow followed him.

Blair picked up speed, running past buildings until he was stopped by the boarded-up old apartment building he'd visited the day before.  He stopped, looking frantically around for somewhere to hide, but there was nothing.  He was out in the open and the shadow was drawing closer.

          The open window!

          He raced to it and climbed through feet first, then tried to slip inside, but his shoulders were too wide to squeeze through the opening.  He struggled, trying to force his way in, but it was no use.

          Feeling a sudden blast of heat, he yelped and backed out.  Sitting on the window sill, he could see inside the building, and it was burning.

          He scrambled out of the window, flames suddenly licking at his feet.

          He staggered back away from the building, stumbling into the arms of the shadow.  He yelled as the darkness closed around him…

          Sitting up in his bed, Blair wiped the sweat off his face and panted for breath.  Movement from the corner of his eye made him yelp and jump back, pressing his back against his pillows and the wall.

His spirit animal was standing in the doorway to his room.  The large wolf cocked its head to the side, its gold eyes locked on Blair's.  Then the animal lunged forward and leaped over the bed, disappearing through the wall.

          "Whoa!" Blair cried, immediately reaching out to touch the wall where the wolf had merged with it.  It felt slightly warm to his touch, but he wasn't sure that was real or just his imagination.

Then he knew.  "I'm a shaman!  Maybe I can find Jim like a shaman!"

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**8:20 a.m.**

 

          Blair stalked into the bullpen looking haggard but excited.  He hadn't gotten any sleep after the visit from his spirit guide, but that didn't matter.  He had a plan now.

Ignoring comments from the other detectives, Blair headed straight for Simon's office, not even bothering to knock before he stepped inside.

          "Christ, Sandburg," the captain said, looking up from a file on his desk, "don't you ever knock?"  Then his expression softened and he said more kindly, "You look like hell."

          "Didn't sleep real well last night," Blair admitted.  "I kept having dreams about being stalked by a shadow, almost getting burned up in these fires…"  He trailed off, shaking his head.

          Simon sighed heavily.  "I guess that's understandable, given the present circumstances."

          "Any news?"

          Banks shook his head.

          "Simon, I know Jim's still somewhere in that Beverly neighborhood."

          The captain leaned back, folding his arms over his chest.  "I've had uniforms all over that neighborhood, and they haven't found anything.  The K9 units came up empty, too.  I've got detectives there and–"

          "The site Jim was watching, it's the boarded up four-story apartment building, right?"

          Simon nodded, then added, "But there are two other structures owned by the same holding company.  Any of the three could be the next target of the arsonist.  We simply don't know which one he'll hit next."

          "Did someone actually go into that building to look for Jim?"

          "Of course," Simon snapped.  "And Jim might've gone in there – the K9s seemed to pick up his scent, but then they lost it.  It was searched, but they didn't find anything."

          "Did they put the locks on the door?"

          Simon shook his head.  "Those were already there.  A man from Renard International had to let the units in to do the search."

          Blair cocked his head to the side.  "Doesn't that strike you as a little strange?  I mean, how did Jim get inside if the door was locked?"

          "According to the report there's an open window–" 

          "Too small," Blair interrupted.  "I know, I tried to get in that way in my dream and–"

          "That was a _dream_ , Sandburg."

          "I saw the window when I was down there in the flesh, Simon.  No way Jim could've gotten through that – way too small."

          "Well, there must be another entrance, then – maybe up on the roof."

          Blair nodded.  "Okay, maybe.  But I'm telling you, Jim's there, I know he is.  Maybe not in that building, but he's in that neighborhood.  And I think he **is** still in that building."

Banks studied the graduate student for a moment, then nodded.  "All right, Sandburg.  I'll have them do another sweep."

"I want to help."

"No."

"Simon, I'm going down there, one way or the other."

Banks sighed heavily.  "Oh, all right, but you come with me."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**9:30 a.m.**

 

          Jim felt terrible.  He wasn't sure what time it was, but he knew it had to be close to the deadline.  His mind kept replaying the moments leading up to his capture, but in every case he couldn't see how he'd left behind any clues the cops might be able to use to find him.

          Sandburg was his only hope.  Somehow his Guide had to find him, if he could.

          "Come on, Blair," he whispered hoarsely.  "I'm depending on you…  I love you," he added as a kind of goodbye.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**9:45 a.m.**

 

          Simon and Blair arrived on Beverly, along with three patrol cars.  The officers each took different directions, heading off in pairs to conduct another search.

          Banks looked to Sandburg and asked, "Okay, we're here, now what?"

          Blair walked over to where he was sure Jim had sat in his truck.  "I'm going to try something…"

          "Try something?" Simon asked.  "You want to be a little more specific, Sandburg?"

          Blair looked up at the man and said, "Okay, look, Jim and I never mentioned this, but when Incacha was in the city, he made me the, uh…"

"What?"

"He said I was the shaman of the city."

          "The what?  What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

          Blair's hands came up in a placating gesture.  "Chill, man.  I know it sounds a little… strange, but bear with me here.  Ever since, I've been working on my… skills."

          "Skills?"

          "Look, Simon, I don't have time to explain it all right now, but trust me, there's more to reality than you might think.  And all I'm saying is, I want to try to find Jim the way Incacha might."

          "Incacha's dead, Blair."

          "I know that!  I just mean the way he'd do it if he wasn't dead… at least I think it's how he might do it."

          Banks sighed heavily.  "Whatever.  Just do what you have to do."

          Blair nodded, then closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, letting his consciousness spread out.  He focused on Jim, willing himself to find the man as he continued to breathe in… and out…  In… and out.  _Okay, come on, Jim, help me out here_.

A few minutes passed and he heard Simon clear his throat.  Blair slowly opened his eyes, then watched as a shadow of Jim's pick-up truck shimmered into existence before his eyes.  A shadow-Jim climbed out of the phantom vehicle and jogged down the street toward the boarded-up building.

          "Come on," Blair said, following the shadow-Jim.

"What is it?" Simon asked.

"Come on!" Sandburg repeated, and this time Banks trailed behind him, although it was clear he could see none of what Blair did.

          When they reached the old apartment building, Blair watched the shadow-Jim reach the door, then pause, listening.  A few moments later he opened a ghostly replica of the door and stepped inside, pulling it shut behind him.

          "These locks were added _after_ Jim was here," Blair said softly.

          "Maybe, maybe not, I don't know, but they're here now," Simon said.  "And we don't have a key."

          "Then we have to find the other way in, and there is another way, Simon," Blair said, beginning down along the side of the building.  He turned the corner and started down another side, then stopped at one of the boarded up windows.  It had the same unsavory aura as the menacing shadow in his dreams.  He ran his hand over the wood without actually touching it.  "I think this is it," he said.

          Simon looked dubious, but he stepped up and began to inspect the window.  A moment later, he jerked back with a grunt and shot a surprised look at Sandburg.  Then, reaching out, he pulled the whole section that was boarded up away from the wall.  It had all been set on hinges, which were now rusty, but not too noisy.

"Probably so the homeless can get in and out without drawing too much unwanted attention," Sandburg offered with a grin.  He climbed through the opening before Simon could stop him and the captain had no choice but to follow him.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

**9:50 a.m.**

 

          Noises slowly penetrated the veil of pain and confusion weighting Jim's consciousness.  "Blair?" he croaked, his voice hardly more than a whisper.

          It took a Herculean effort, but the Sentinel forced his attention to his hearing as best he could.  A series of sounds he couldn't identify floated through Jim's mind, but one thing he did recognize – there was a man moving around the building.

Lifting his arm, Jim squinted and blinked until he could check the date and time.

"Shit," he hissed.  It was probably the arsonist, come back to finish his assignment.

The soft sounds of crying echoed in his ears, and Jim flinched when the sobs rose to ear-piercing screams, accompanied by the sharp clap of a slapping hand.

"No, Daddy!  Please!  Please, Daddy!  No more!  No more!"

"Son-of-a-bitch," Ellison snarled, wishing he could help the child.  But he couldn't even help himself and, from the looks of it, before long he was going to be dead, beyond helping anyone.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**10:00 a.m.**

 

          Blair and Simon moved carefully through the building, the captain following Sandburg, who seemed to know where it was he was going.  But as they rounded one corner, both men stopped, catching sight of someone passing from one room to another farther into the building.

          "Stay here," Simon quietly told Blair, then moved out, tracking after the man they had seen.

          And Blair had every intention of doing what the captain had told him, but something kept tugging at him, urging him to continue his search.  After a short wait, it grew impossible to ignore.  So he gave in, heading out again, following the invisible tug that seemed to be leading him… somewhere.

          Before long Blair found himself standing at one end of a hallway.  There were several open doors on either side, and at the end an alcove of some sort with what looked like a large hole in the floor that had been "fixed" by tossing boards over it.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**10:15 a.m.**

 

          Jim tried to block out the sounds of the wailing child, narrowing his focus to the arsonist, but as he did, other sounds intruded – two other sets of footsteps, two additional heartbeats, both of which he knew he recognized, but his aching head made it hard to remember from where.

          Then one came into clear focus and Jim knew his Guide had returned, and he had brought help – Simon.

          "Blair," he called weakly.  _God, Sandburg, be careful,_ he silently pleaded.

          Through a rush of relief, Jim heard Simon's voice as the captain snapped, "Freeze!  Put your hands in the air – now!"

          That was followed moments later by what Ellison had been hoping to hear for two days: "Jim?  Oh, man…"

          Before he could reply, the blackness that had been threatening to engulf him like a wave crashed over him and carried his consciousness away.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**10:15 a.m.**

 

          Blair stood at the edge of the gaping hole and realized that he was looking down an old elevator shaft.  Kneeling down, he lifted one of the boards up and pulled it away.  Then, glancing down into the pit below he found a lump lying at the bottom in the darkness.

          "Jim?  Oh, man…" he breathed.  His heart beating like he'd sprinted a mile, Blair flopped down on the floor and leaned over the edge of the shaft, calling, "Jim!"

          Sandburg rolled over onto his back and sat up, digging into his jacket pocket for his cell phone.  Flipping it open he stabbed out 9-1-1.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**11:45 a.m.**

 

          "What's taking them so long?" Blair moaned, trying to get closer to the edge of the shaft.

          Simon pulled his back, saying, "Let the paramedics do their job, Sandburg.  They'll have Jim out of there as soon as they can."

          Blair nodded.  "I know, I know.  It's just–"

          The firefighters started pulling on the ropes that extended into the shaft and a few moments later they were pulling Jim out and moving him to a waiting gurney.

          "Jim!" he called, bolting forward before Simon could grab him.

          Sandburg reached his lover's side and reached out, tenderly touching the man's shoulder.  "Jim?"

          "Excuse me," one of the paramedics said, gently moving Blair out of the way and starting to push Jim away.

          Banks took hold of the younger man's arm, saying, "Come on, we'll meet them at the hospital."

          Blair nodded, a cold lump in the pit of his stomach.  "He looked bad, Simon."

          "Come on," the captain said, guiding Sandburg out of the building.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~*

 

**February 3 rd**

**9:30 a.m.**

 

          The steady rhythm of a familiar heartbeat guided Jim back to consciousness.  Before he opened his eyes the detective knew he was in a hospital.  But, more importantly, he was no longer cold, and his hip and shoulder didn't ache any more.  His head still hurt, but it was nowhere near as bad as it had been.

          He blinked open his eyes, his gaze immediately going to Blair, who was slumped down in a padded chair, his legs stretched out in front of him, sound asleep.

          _Oh, man_ , Jim thought, _he looks like hell_.  Dark circles cupped the grad student's eyes, he needed a shave, and it was obvious to the Sentinel that his Guide hadn't showered in a while – the reek of fear still clung to the younger man.

          A moment later Blair opened his eyes, his gaze locking on the Sentinel's.  "Jim?" he said softly, his heart rate immediately doubling as a small smile lifted the corners of his mouth.  And that immediate reaction told Jim all he needed to know about how Sandburg felt about him.  It was a good feeling.

          "Hey," Ellison said, his voice still rough.

          "Here, man," Sandburg said, pushing out of his chair.  He grabbed a plastic cup and filled it with water from a matching plastic pitcher.  He added a straw, then held it to Jim's lips so he could suck down a few sips.  "Not too much."

          Ellison savored the cool liquid as it slid down his throat, taking several swallows before Blair took the cup away.

          "Better?" Sandburg asked.

          Jim nodded.  "You found me?"

          "Yeah," his Guide replied, blushing.  "Just in time, too.  The arsonist was there, setting up his stuff.  Simon got the drop on him."

          "Good," Jim said, relaxing back against his pillows.

          "How're you feeling?" Blair asked, his concern clear in his voice.

          "Better."

          "Head doesn't hurt too much?"

          "Not too much," Jim replied.

          "I can get the nurse–"

          "No," Jim interrupted.  "It's not that bad."

          "All right," Blair said, then pulled his chair over closer to the bed and sat down again.

          "What did the doctor say?" Jim asked.

          Sandburg leaned back, saying, "Well, let's see, hypothermia, some nasty bruises – probably from the fall – mild concussion, oh, and dehydration."

          Jim closed his eyes and moaned softly, "Enough."

          Blair grinned.  "That's basically it."

          "How long am I stuck here?"

          "Tomorrow or the next day.  They're going to run some tests, see if that guy did any damage to your brain, but given your hard head, I don't think you need to worry too much."

          Jim snorted softly.  "Thanks, Dr. Sandburg."

          Blair grinned.  "Any time, man."

          "You look worse than I do," Ellison said, then his voice softened as he added, "I'm really sorry."

          Blair leaned forward in his chair.  "Hey, it's not like it was your fault.  But what happened?  How'd he get the drop on you?"

          Jim took a deep breath, then said, "I was trying to piggyback my sight on my hearing, but there was this little girl…  Her father started beating her and she screamed, and all of a sudden – bang – I was there, seeing that.  I guess I zoned-out.  When I woke up, I was chained in that shaft."

          "Oh, man," Blair breathed, "that sucks!"

          "Yeah," Jim agreed.  "But that wasn't what I was apologizing for."

          Sandburg looked confused.  "Jim, I don't know–"

          "Look, I know I've been acting like a real ass lately."

          Blair's eyes rounded with surprise.  "Uh, well, yeah, I'll agree with that."

          "Thanks," Jim said sourly, but he smiled thinly and continued, "I don't know what it is.  It's like I'm– I'm–"

          "You're scared, man," Blair said softly, glancing at the door to make sure they weren't about to be interrupted.  "Things are good with us, and you got scared so you tried to push me away."

          "Before you could change your mind and walk out," Jim added in a mumble, unable to meet the younger man's gaze.

          "But that's _not_ gonna happen, man."

          "Some part of me knows that," Jim admitted.  "But…"

          "Yeah, I know," Blair said.  "Look, we can talk about this when you're home.  But I want you to listen to me, okay?"

          Jim nodded, still not looking at Sandburg.

          Blair checked the door again, then said softly, "I love you, Jim.  And I'm yours – heart, body, soul, you name it.  I'm happy – really happy – with the life we're building, and nothing's going to change that.  So just chill and enjoy the ride, man.  I am."

          Jim nodded, finally meeting his Guide's intense gaze.  "I'll try."

          "That's all anyone can do."

          With another quick glance at the door, Blair pushed up out of his chair and planted a quick kiss on Jim's lips, then dropped back into his seat.  "The rest will have to wait until you're home," he said.

          Ellison chuckled softly.  "Now that's what I call an incentive, Chief."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~*

 

**February 5 th**

**5:30 p.m.**

 

          Blair opened the door, but let Jim enter in front of him.  Ellison stopped just inside the loft, glancing around.  Candles burned in the living room, and the fireplace also danced.  The loft was warm and filled with a pleasant fragrance.  Soft music played on the stereo.

          "How–?" he started to ask Blair, but his Guide interrupted.

          "That call I made just before we left the hospital," he explained.  "I asked Casey to light the candles and wait until she saw us pull up."

          Jim nodded.  Casey was one of Blair's fellow graduate students who also happened to live in the building.  "What's that smell?"

          "Nice, isn't it?  I found a little place off King Street that puts together custom potpourri packages.  It's all natural, too."

          "I like it, it's very… relaxing," Jim said, then walked over to the sofa and sat down, looking out at the city lights.  A light rain had started to fall, drops beading on the glass and scattering the colored lights into a myriad of sparkling rainbows.

          "How's your head feel?"

          "Fine," Jim replied, closing his eyes and relaxing into the comfort of being "home."

          "No headache?"

          "None."

          "Good," Blair purred, walking over to stand behind the sofa.  He leaned over and kissed the rim of Jim's ear, making the man sigh with pleasure.  "Remember," he whispered, "I told you the rest would have to wait until you got home.  Well, you're home, man, and I've been waiting long enough."

          Jim grinned.  "I see."

          "And since you're still recuperating, I think you'd better let me do most of the work," Blair said, rubbing Jim's shoulders through the thick cable sweater the man was wearing.

          "Mmm," Ellison replied, nodding.  "Sounds like a good idea to me."

          "I'm glad to hear you say that," Blair said, his hands dipping down to rub Jim's chest through the soft material.  "So, since you're being so cooperative, why don't you unfasten your belt and undo your pants so I can come take them off in a few minutes."

          Jim did as he'd been asked, Sandburg continuing to stroke across his chest, arms, shoulders.  "Good, good," Blair breathed quietly.  "Now, why don't you lift up just a little and pull them down for me."

          Ellison hooked his thumbs under the waistband of his pants and underwear, then lifted his butt off the couch and pulled them both down to mid-thigh.  His partially-filled cock fell across his leg and Blair licked his lips in anticipation.

          "Oh yes," Sandburg sighed, "that'll be a huge help."

          "Hey, whatever you need," Jim mumbled, letting himself get lost in his lover's light touch.

          "I see what I need," Blair replied in a throaty growl that made the Sentinel's cock jump and fill a little more.

          Reaching over, Sandburg grabbed the bottom of Ellison's sweater and slowly pulled it up the man's chest.  Jim leaned away from the sofa and lifted his arms, letting the younger man pull it off completely.

          Blair draped the garment on the back of the couch, then walked around and knelt in front of Jim.  He untied the man's shoes and pulled them off; socks followed.  Then he reached up and took hold of the pants, tugging them down over Jim's thighs, calves and finally off at the feet.  "Beautiful," he sighed.  "Why don't you lay down, man."

          Jim grinned and shifted on the sofa, lying down, his arms folded behind his head.  "Whatever you say, Doc."

          Blair grinned back, then began lightly stroking the Sentinel's naked body.  "Let your senses play, Jim, watch the candles… enjoy the music, the rain… breathe in that wonderful scent… feel my touch…"

          "Mmm," Ellison replied, relaxing and giving himself completely over to his Guide.  And for the first time he could remember, Jim felt completely safe and loved and unafraid.  Sandburg wasn't going to give up on him, wasn't going to pack up and leave, wasn't going to play games with him.  Blair was just going to love him, day after day.

          "That's it," Blair said softly, his fingertips brushing over thighs, ribs, and sensitive underarms as he watched Jim's cock swell.  He was nearly mesmerized by the sight of his effect on the man.  Knowing the power he had sent a rush of warmth through Sandburg.

          He gently caressed Jim's hard nubs, and the Sentinel closed his eyes and pressed his chest up slightly.  Blair squeezed the pebbles, eliciting a groan from the man.

          As his cock filled, it sprang up and bounced against Jim's belly.

          Blair sat back on his heels for a moment and just stared at it while his hand stroked Jim's hip and thigh.  Then he reached out and wrapped his fingers around the base, holding it up so it pointed straight at the ceiling.  He leaned in and licked the salty head, then sucked a few inches of the long shaft into his mouth.  It was thick as well, and Blair had to stretch his jaw to get most of it inside his mouth.

Jim moaned when Sandburg began to suck hungrily, and started pumping it in and out between his Guide's lips.  Blair opened his throat, allowing the thick rod to slide deeper.

          "God, Blair," he groaned, "you feel so good."

          Blair pulled back a little, brushing his tongue over the straining head, then licked around the ridge and down the veiny, bumpy underside until he reached Jim's balls, kissing and attacking them with his lips.

          "Oh, yeah," Jim breathed, the muscles in his ass contracting.

          Blair held his lover's cock between his lips and gave it several hard sucks while he took hold of Jim's balls and squeezed them gently with one hand, the other stroking the man's legs, which soon began to quiver.  And when they did, Sandburg pulled back.

          Jim's eyes opened, desire and need mixed in the penetrating blue.

          "Stay right there," Blair said, nearly leaping to his feet.  He stripped out of his clothes as quickly as he could and when he was as naked as Jim, he reached over to the coffee table and grabbed a condom packet and a bottle of oil.  With a grin at his Sentinel, Blair tore the packet open and removed the condom inside, rolling it down over Jim's straining erection.  That done, he poured some of the oil into palm, then rubbed it over the condom.

          Reaching down, Blair rubbed what was left of the oil over his own throbbing cock, then grabbed the towel that was also lying on the coffee table and climbed onto the opposite end of the sofa.  On his knees, he draped the arm of the couch with the towel, then braced his hands there and pressed his ass back toward Jim.

          Ellison pushed himself up and moved in behind his Guide.  "You want me?" he asked, taking hold of his cock and rubbing the head up and down the younger man's crack.

          "Yes," Blair whimpered.  "Please, Jim."

          "Easy, Chief, easy," Jim replied, reaching around Sandburg's hip to take the younger man's cock in his hand.  He gave it several long pulls.

          "Come on, man, doctor's orders," Blair growled, grinding his ass back against the hard cock that was poking him.

          Jim chuckled as he pushed Blair over a little, then opened his cheeks.  Grabbing the base of his cock, he positioned his head against the twitching hole.  "Here I come," he purred, starting to push, but Blair took a deep breath, letting it out in a rush as he pushed back, sliding his hungry ass down the entire length of Ellison's thick pole in a single move.  The Sentinel gasped when he felt the younger man's muscles stretching to accommodate every throbbing inch of his cock as it sank deeper and deeper.

          When Blair felt Jim's pubic hair tickle his ass and his balls bounced against the bottom of his cheeks, he squeezed and moaned with satisfaction.

          "Oh, yeah," Jim groaned, closing his eyes and arching his back, pressing in as far as he could go.

          Sandburg felt Jim's cock swell larger inside of him and he tucked his hips forward, pulling off the hard pole about halfway, then squeezed again.

          Ellison's hips jerked, sinking back into the tight, hot passage.  "So good," he breathed, then grabbed the younger man's hips and began sliding in and out, slowly at first, savoring every sensation the action created along his cock.  But then, when Blair began bucking back against him, he picked up the pace, and within minutes he was driving in and out of the Sandburg's eager ass like a well-oiled piston.

          Blair had been horny all day as he thought about what he was going to do to Jim when he got him home, and it didn't take long before he felt the electric tingle begin deep in his balls, then course through his belly and spread all over his body.  He reached down and grabbed his own cock, and it only took a few jerks before he was spraying his load onto the towel, which he grabbed up around himself to keep the long strings of come from dripping down to puddle on the couch.

          When Sandburg's hole began to spasm Jim's hips began thrusting frantically, then, with one final, mighty jab, he buried himself fully in his Guide and came, filling the tip of the condom with his hot semen.  He grunted softly with each shot, one arm snaking around Blair's side, his hand pressed tight against the younger man's belly, his cheek pressed against his back.  Sandburg's muscles squeezed him again and again, milking out the last drop he had to give.

          Even when the orgasm passed, Jim stayed where he was, holding on to Sandburg, who wiped himself off, then dropped the towel on the floor.  Slowly, his cock began to soften, and eventually it slipped free from the man's body.  When it did, he lay back on the sofa, still breathing hard.  He closed his eyes, enjoying the last waves of pleasure as they rocked through him.

          He felt Blair remove the condom, then wipe him off with the soft towel.

          "Are you okay, man?" his Guide asked.

          "Fine," Jim said, opening his eyes.  Their gazes met and he swallowed hard, then whispered, "I love you, Blair.  I hope you know that.  And I really am sorry I acted like an ass."

          Sandburg smiled, his eyes full of love and mischief.  "Just keep telling me that from time to time, and give up the paranoia trip.  I'm **not** going to leave you, Jim.  Not ever, man.  That's a promise, but I love you, too."

          Ellison nodded, unable to speak past the lump in his throat.

          Blair climbed off the sofa and crossed to the stereo.  He re-started the CD, then blew out the candles, casting the living room into semi-darkness that was only broken by the flames dancing in fireplace.

          He extended his hand to Jim, saying, "Come on, we're not finished yet."

          Jim's eyebrows arched, but he took the man's proffered hand and let him pull him up and off the sofa.  Blair led him up the stairs to their bedroom, where more candles burned.

          The covers on the bed were pulled down, the pillows piled in the center of the mattress, which as covered with new satin sheets, as were the pillows themselves.  Ellison grinned.  "My turn, huh?

          "Well, I was hoping," Blair replied, reaching back to cup one of the Sentinel's cheeks and stroking the man's sensitive skin.  "But if you're too tired…"

          Jim's butt muscles clenched.  "I've got to hand it to you, you do know how to throw a helluva welcome home party, Chief," he said, then walked over and climbed onto the bed.  He settled on top of the pillows, which elevated his hips.  He spread his legs wide.

          Blair swallowed hard, then climbed onto the bed and crawled up between the Sentinel's legs.  He reached under the man, pulling Jim's cock and balls down so he could see them.  Ellison was already beginning to get hard again.  Sandburg smiled; so was he.

          Running his hands up the backs of Jim's calves and thighs, Blair whispered, "Think about what it's going to feel like when I'm buried inside of you…"

          Jim moaned softly and moved his ass.

          Blair caressed the man's cheeks, his touch as light as he could make it.  Then he rose up on his knees and leaned forward, planting feather-light kisses on Jim's lower back while he gently stroked the man's shoulders.  He listened to Jim sigh and felt him relax under the touch.

          He continued planting kisses on Jim's back while he reached over and grabbed a condom off the bedside table, setting it close by.  Then he reached for another bottle of oil and laid it next to the condom.

          Crawling back a little, Blair leaned all the way over and ran his tongue up the underside of Jim's slowly growing erection and sucked on his balls.

          "Ohhhh, Christ," Jim groaned.

          Blair grinned as he rose up and reached for the oil.  He poured some into his hand and then began rubbing it into Jim's back, filling the room with a subtle earthy scent.  The Sentinel groaned again, his muscles going slack.

          Sandburg poured more of the oil directly onto Jim's lower back, making him suck in a sharp breath, then rubbed that into his butt cheeks and the backs of his thighs.  By the time Blair was finished, Ellison was moaning softly, his hips grinding against the pillows.

          With another grin, Blair pulled Jim's cheeks apart and poured some of the oil directly onto the winking sphincter, which squeezed tight in response, but almost immediately relaxed.  Blair reached out and pressed his fingertip against the opening, causing it to open, some of the oil running in.

          Sandburg quickly rolled the condom over his hard-on, then ran his fingers through the oil in Jim's crack and rubbed it onto himself.  That done, he positioned himself between Jim's legs and pulled the man's cheeks open again, but instead of his cock, he teased at the man's pucker with his finger, whispering, "I'm get so hard looking at your ass, man…  It's going to feel so good when I push my cock into you…"  He poked his finger past the tight opening, pressing it in to the second knuckle.  Jim's muscles immediately begin to suck on his digit.

          Blair pulled his finger almost all the way out, twisting it back and forth until Jim's hips rose, trying to force the intruding digit in deeper.  Sandburg pushed it in all the way, and was rewarded by a soft sigh from Jim.

          Slowly, Blair began to finger-fuck his lover, adding a second digit when he felt the muscles begin to relax.  For his part, Jim continued to grind his hips against the pillows, grunting softly whenever Blair grazed his prostate.

          When he was sure the Sentinel was ready, Blair pulled his fingers out and grabbed his own aching cock.  He pressed his head against the well-prepared opening, and whispered, "You're so hot, so tight, it makes me want to shoot as soon as I'm inside you," as he slowly pressed, his head popping inside.  "Yes," he hissed.  "I want you to concentrate on my cock," he continued.  "I want you to feel every inch of me as I enter you."

          Jim moaned again, his muscles beginning to spastically contract around Blair's cock as his Guide slowly pushed into him.

          "Can you feel my cock touching you, Jim…  It's caressing you… stretching you… filling you up…"

          "I can even feel you getting thicker, longer," Jim gasped.

          "I am," Blair agreed, "you're so hot, man, so tight, it excites me more than any woman I've ever been with.  I dream about loving you, you loving me."

          "Yes," Jim hissed, lifting his hips a little higher.

          Blair continued pressing in until his balls were crushed tightly against Jim's ass.  "What do you want, Jim?" he asked softly.

          "You, babe.  I only want you."

          Sandburg ground his hips against Jim's ass, making him buck.  "And I want you to remember this: I only want you.  No one else.  Understand?"

          "I hear you," Jim groaned, his muscles still contracting around the cock buried in his ass.  "Make love to me, Blair.  Please."

          "With pleasure," Sandburg replied, running a finger around the edge of Jim's hole, touching both of them and their most intimate contact.

          "Oh, God," Jim gasped when Blair let his hand slip down to squeeze his aching cock.

          "Jim," Blair said, "I want to see your face, man."

          Ellison nodded.

          Sandburg slowly pulled out, pausing with just his head still buried in his lover's chute.  He groaned, then pulled out the rest of the way.

          Jim pushed himself up, then tossed the pillows back to the head of the bed, crawled up and turned over.  He lifted his knees to his chest and watched as Blair came after him, his fully hard cock leading the way.  Sandburg pressed himself against his hole again, saying, "I love you, Jim," as he sank back into him, them humped twice to bury himself fully once more.

          The Sentinel's head arched back and he reached down to grab his own aching cock, starting to tug on it.

          "Whoa, easy, Big Guy," Blair said, beginning to slowly slide in and out of Jim's chute.  "Not so fast."

          Jim opened his eyes and met Blair's gaze.  "Harder," he said.

          Sandburg immediately picked up the speed, driving in harder and deeper with each stroke.  He rocked Jim's hip up a little higher, allowing him to spear the man as deeply as he could.

          Ellison gasped with pleasure and arched his back, one hand pinching at his nipple, the other pulling on his cock while he was drilled by Sandburg.

          "I'm close," Blair gasped, his hips jerking faster.  "You make me so damned hot I can't stand it."

          Sandburg's words drove Jim over the edge and he started shooting, long strands of come falling across his chest and abdomen.  Watching his lover climax and feeling his muscles begin to go crazy, Blair slipped over as well.  He plowed into Jim as hard as he could and began pumping his condom full of his own seed.

          A few moments later, Blair collapsed on top of Jim, both men gasping for breath.

          "Oh, man," Blair groaned.  "You are _so_ good."

          Jim laughed.  "Back at ya, Sandburg."

          When they had caught their breath, they got up and cleaned up, then climbed back into bed, Jim pulling Blair to him and just holding him close.

After a few minutes Sandburg gave him a squeeze and said, "You scared the shit out of me."

          "Yeah, I figured that out," Jim said quietly.  "But I was scared, too, Chief."

          "You?"

          "Yeah, me.  Scared I might die in that building… that I might never see you again, or get a chance to tell you how I really felt."

          "Yeah, been there, done that, Jim."  He gave the Sentinel another hug.  "But no more Joe Friday, right?"

          Ellison chuckled.  "I hear you, Chief."

          "You'd better," Blair threatened, "or I'll have to show you again just how much you mean to me."

          Jim was quiet for a moment, then he growled, "The facts, Blair, only the facts."

          Sandburg popped up, coming down on Jim's chest and giving him a passionate kiss.

          When they surfaced for air, Jim grinned and said, "Now that's a fact I think needs a little more investigating."

          Blair was happy to oblige, giving the Sentinel a kiss he wouldn't soon forget.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~*

 

**February 6 th**

**7:00 a.m.**

 

          Blair glanced around the Beverly neighborhood and frowned.  "Jim, what're we doing here?"

          "I'm going to find that son-of-a-bitch," Ellison said, cocking his head slightly to the side and listening for the crying child.  A few moments later and he heard her.  "Come on, this way."

          Jim lead the way into one of the apartment buildings, and up two flights of stairs to number 230.

Even Blair heard the slap and the child's answering shriek.

Ellison pounded on the door.  There was another cry and then the door opened and a wide-eyes little girl stared up at them, her cheeks wet with tears.

"Are you all right, sweetheart?" Blair asked.

Jim, however was focused on what was going on beyond the door, in the kitchen, where a man was standing over a woman, who was huddled on the floor.

"Cascade Police!" Ellison barked, stepping into the apartment.

The little girl raced back to the woman, who scooped her into her arms.  "Momma," she cried, "the police are here!"

The man stalked over to the doorway, stopping there to meet Jim.  "What the hell are you doin' in here?" he bellowed at the detective.

"I heard a scream.  I knocked.  Your daughter answered the door."

"I never believed that brat was my kid," the man snarled.  "Look, nobody here called the cops, so get the hell out."

"Can't do that," Jim said, his voice low and controlled.  He took a step forward, trying to see around the man.  "Ma'am?"

The woman stood slowly, the little girl clutching at her dress and hiding behind her.  She hesitated in the center of the kitchen, clearly afraid to get too close to the man.

"Step aside, sir," Jim ordered.

"Like hell.  I told you to get the hell out of my apartment!"

He took a step toward Jim, who immediately drew his weapon, aiming it at the man and barking, "On the floor, now!"

The muscle in the man's jaw jumped several times, but he finally did as he'd been told, going to his knees on the floor.

"Lay down," Jim snarled.  And once the man was lying face down on the carpet, he stepped in and handcuffed the man, then jerked him up to his feet.  He looked over at the woman, whose face was bruised, the corner of her mouth bleeding.  "Are you all right?" he asked.

She nodded, tears streaking down her face.

"If you want to press charges, we can make sure he doesn't hurt you or your daughter, ever again."

"Don't even think about it, bitch," the man snarled.

Jim gave him a hard shove toward the door.  "Shut up," he told the man, then handed his gun to Sandburg, saying, "If he opens his mouth, shoot him."

"Be glad to," Blair replied, glowering at the man, who was watching Jim, hatred burning bright in his eyes.

Ellison walked over to the woman, his expression and tone of voice supportive and understanding.  "I know you're frightened, but you don't have to live like this," he told her.

The woman glanced down at the little girl, who was watching Jim, her big brown eyes round with uncertainty, but there was also hope there as well.  He noted the faded bruise on her cheek and had to rein in his desire to go shoot the man then and there.

"He'll kill us," she whispered, her gaze shooting from Jim to the man and back.

"No, he won't.  He'll be in jail and the city will see to it you and your daughter are placed in a safehouse until you can decide what you want to do next.  But you'll have to testify against him in court."  He glanced down at the girl and smiled.

"What about Maria?"

"They can take her testimony at the safehouse. She doesn't have to ever see him again."

"He won't be able to find us?"

"No."

She nodded, the gesture almost invisible.

"Get your things together," Jim told her.  "I'll be back to take you both to the a shelter.  But first I want to get him out of here."

She nodded again, her arm going around her daughter's shoulder and hugging her close.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**11 a.m.**

 

          Jim and Blair walked back to the sedan Jim had borrowed from the police vehicle pool.  Sandburg was grinning.

          "All right, spill it," Jim told him, pausing at the driver's side door without opening it.

          "Nothing, man."

          "No, it's not nothing," Jim countered.  "You've been grinning like an idiot since we left Tess and Maria.  What is it?"

          Blair blushed slightly, but said, "Have I ever told you you're my hero?"

          Jim laughed.  "Hero, huh?" he asked, his own cheeks coloring as he unlocked the door and climbed in.  He leaned over and unlocked Blair's door, the graduate student climbing in as well.

          "Yep," Sandburg said.

          "Hungry?" Jim asked.

          Blair grinned and nodded.  Jim hated praise.  "What did you have in mind?"

          "Graduate student a'la mode," was the half-growled reply.

          Blair shuddered.  "Oh, man, it's way too cold for that!"

          "Wanna bet?"

  


* * *

[1]  "Before the Night is Over," written by Steve Wehmeyer, Patrick Murphy, Kathleen Keane, and Jim Cregan.  Performed by Gaelic Storm on their _Tree_ CD.


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